


Disillusion's All You Left For Me

by IKnowWhoYouAre_Damianos



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AFTG Valentine's Day Exchange 2020, Alternate Universe - No Exy (All For The Game), Angst with a Happy Ending, Art, Artist/Writer AU, I swear, M/M, Post-Break Up, References to Depression, artist!neil, but it's getting better, working through issues, writer!Andrew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22885276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IKnowWhoYouAre_Damianos/pseuds/IKnowWhoYouAre_Damianos
Summary: "Wishing, hoping, chasing shadowsDid I see your face somewhere in the crowd?Thinking, wondering, what you're doingI can stop myself from crying out loudThey say my wound will heal and only leave a scarBut then, they'd never shared our loveDisillusion, disillusion's all you left for meHow can I forget you when my world is breaking down?You're all I had, you're all I wantDisillusion, disillusions now, that's all I have."- ABBA, Disillusionor: Neil and Andrew broke up three years ago. Neil wouldn't have left, but he couldn't disrespect Andrew's decision. Nevertheless, it seems like the last word isn't spoken, yet.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 25
Kudos: 202
Collections: AFTG Exchange Valentine's Day 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeyaAmaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeyaAmaya/gifts).



> Why is life always troublesome? I wanted to have this finished in January and here I am, three days too late. 
> 
> My prompt was angst with a happy ending, breaking up and getting back together for a good reason, writer/artist AU and I hope I made the best out of it. I'll post in chapters, and I hope you'll like it dearest DeyaAmaya.

New York’s climate in June had never been something Neil took a liking to. The moment he stepped out of the plane, his shirt was clinging to his body, beads of sweat already forming on his forehead and lower back. 

The turbines were still accelerating the warm, sticky air, but the cooling effect wasn’t sufficient. It got even worse when Neil pushed his trolley bags airportwards just to get through passport control, pick up Sir and wait for a vacant cab, once more exposed to the pre-summer heat. 

The skyline strived upwards at the horizon as the cab driver weaved through crowded streets, constantly being on the phone with presumably another cab driver, but it wasn’t like Neil cared anyway.

Neil’s heart still twinged at the sight of New York’s skyline, too many memories connected to tall buildings and broad bridges, Hudson River and rooftops too tempting to forego relishing the incredible view they offered at night from.

“That’s fifty-five dollars,” the driver’s voice cut through Neil’s thoughts.

Neil handed him sixty bucks and got out of the cab, slowly approaching the apartment building where he had rented an apartment for the next three months. 

His artworks should arrive tomorrow afternoon, so there was plenty of time left to reaccommodate himself to the buzzing city after two years of absence.

As he lifted his last trolley case onto the baggage rack, his phone started ringing. Stuart’s name appeared on the display, and although Neil didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, he couldn’t reject his uncle’s call just like that.

“Hi,” Neil answered, phone tucked in between ear and shoulder so he could continue unpacking his clothes. It wasn’t a lot — his past ever-present whenever he travelled — but it was still a bit and he thought it would be easier to settle if he unpacked right away.

“Neil! How was your flight?”

“It was fine.” 

Flying had never been a problem for Neil, but since the breakup, it reminded him all the more of the life he had gained after all the shit he had been through as a child and teen, and lost again so suddenly.

“That’s good to hear. I just wanted to wish you good luck with your exhibition. I know that— Well, I hope you can have a good time despite... being back in New York.”

Neil knew exactly what Stuart wanted to say.

“You rather mean despite being back to where the only man I ever had feelings for broke up with me.”

Stuart sighed. Wasn’t it Neil who should have sighed there? He picked up Sir, who was exploring his new territory, and let his hand roam about soft fur. The motion was grounding — not as much as Andrew’s hand used to be, but Neil was sure he’d never experience that kind of grounding intimacy ever again.

“I didn’t want to phrase it like that. Whatever. If you need something, let me know, Neil.”

“I will. Thank you,” Neil said and rolled his eyes. 

He was tired of everyone still beating around the bush whenever the topic “Andrew” came up. It was over; had been for over two years, now. And although Neil had never thought this void could be filled again, it wasn’t as big as it had been back then. He had a handful of good friends and Stuart and a cat, and life was… well, not  _ bad _ . 

“Talk to you soon!”

“Yeah, talk to you soon.”

Neil’s head ached. The last thing he wanted to do is ever step a foot out of his apartment again, but he’d promised his gallerist to meet her for dinner, and Neil knew that he’d better never stand up Allison Reynolds.

~~~

“Hey, sweetheart!”

It was impossible to  _ not _ recognise Allison with her perfectly styled blonde hair, red lipstick and these impossible-to-walk-in looking high heels. Neil had to admit that he had missed her crushing hugs, her merry chit-chat and even the way she gave him a once-over, judging his poor style, and yet never once failing to stand up for Neil whenever it became necessary.

“Hey, Ally,” Neil said and settled in the secluded booth, rejoicing in the cooling air condition. 

Allison’s name was enough to get them the best tables in every high class restaurant in New York City, which Neil usually considered ostentatious, but sometimes came in handy, especially when one didn’t want to run into certain people, and there definitely was one person Neil still avoided meeting again.

“How was your flight, honey? God, you look tired. Your works are supposed to arrive tomorrow, right? I can’t wait to finally exhibit them in my gallery. I’m sure we’ll sell a few.”

“My flight was fine, and you know that I don’t really care about selling my work. It’s just what I want to show.”

“So, are you finally over the five-foot idiot? Have you read his book by the way? I hope you didn’t, because damn, he doesn’t deserve to write about heartbreak when he was the one to drive you away.” 

Allison prepped her head onto her in the air folded hands, her eyes sparkling in anticipation of the newest gossip material.

“I’ve told you I’ve been over him for quite some time, and it’s not okay to call him an idiot.” 

Of course, Neil had read Andrew’s novel. How could he have ignored it, when Andrew had chosen to rather write about his feelings instead of ever expressing them to Neil when they had been together. The critics had praised it, had marked it one of the best novels of the decade, a novelty in the way the author expressed pain and apathy in equal shares. Well, apathy had definitely been one of Andrew’s strengths. Just the feelings part was new.

“You know, it would be much easier to finally come to a closure if you and Matt and everyone else stopped inquiring about my feelings all the time,” Neil added, trying to avert the whole topic.

Neil was sure he looked like a pouting child right now, but he couldn’t care less. It was absolutely true. Matt and Dan and Allison were always the first ones to bring up Andrew whenever they saw Neil, and it was exhausting. All Neil wanted was to shelve the Andrew file once and for all and move on, and that had already proven hard enough without his friends poking their noses into his business.

“Okay, okay,” Allison gave in, studying the menu hyperbolically. “So, what else is happening in your life? Any new acquaintances? California for sure has some dating material on hand, right?”

Neil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You should know that I don’t really look at them the way you guys do, but whatever you say.”

The waiter cut through the ensuing silence, taking their orders and recommending a wine that seemed much too expensive, especially when Neil wouldn’t drink it anyway.

“Neil, listen. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, okay? Let’s put it aside, okay?”

It wasn’t in Neil’s nature to bear grudges for long, so he nodded and talked about his artworks, his successful exhibitions around the country and his upcoming project once his 

“Disillusion” exhibition was over.

“It helped me with the breakup so it’ll probably help me with that trauma, too,” Neil said and leaned back, wiping his mouth with his napkin. He was full to the brim and couldn’t understand how Allison could keep her weight steady despite eating for ten.

“That’s so inspiring. My little baby spreads his wings.” Allison faked wiping her eyes, fanning herself with the menu.

“It’s not that big of a deal, you know? I mean, it’s not like it’s going to be fun revisiting my past, my childhood, my parents, but my therapist told me it could be really helpful, and if it’ll pay my rent, my parents will have served at least one good purpose.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Allison drawled, stopping the waiter with her perfectly manicured hand to order dessert. It made Neil’s calloused fingers stick out even more, but they also showed how much effort he put into his art, and how much he’d overcome with it. 

_ Proud _ .

If Andrew would be proud? Neil sometimes wondered if Andrew had been to one of his exhibitions. If Andrew could see how much Neil had felt for him. Still felt for him. All the time he told people he was over him, but was he really over the person who’d made him swing for the first and probably last time ever? 

Some nights, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“— really not worth exhibiting. Honey, are you okay? You look like you’re having a stroke.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Ah, forget it. I’m really happy for you. It’s great you’re making so much progress.”

“Thanks, Ally,” Neil answered, but zoned out again the moment Allison went on about another one of her artists.

As the waiter set down two sundaes, Neil didn’t know how he should take another bite. His tongue felt heavy and his mouth was dry. When Allison finally asked for the check, Neil couldn’t wait to get into the next cab passing by. He didn’t even know how he’d bidden Allison goodbye.

Seemed like tonight was one of those nights where nothing was certain anymore.

~~~

“Disillusion” had attracted a million visitors around the whole country so far. Andrew Minyard’s novel “Pipe Dream” had five million sales worldwide so far. Five million people who had been allowed into Andrew’s emotional world, and Neil hadn’t been one of them although this book wouldn’t exist without him in the first place.

Neil arranged the last canvas in the exhibition room before he could quickly step under the shower to be presentable for the big opening of his last stop with the traveling exhibition.

He was used to the photographers, the journalists, the people trying to get to chat with him about one of the paintings or installations, but he somehow still wasn’t used to giving his opening speech wherein he explained to the world how this exhibition had come to life.

Neil never mentioned Andrew. He talked about a breakup, a person he’d let in and whom he’d loved. A person who simply hadn’t been able to overcome his horrific past, a trauma so big that even he, the son of a murderer, couldn’t really relate to. 

As always, he hinted at the foundation he and Allison had founded, the Hatford-Reynolds Against Childhood Abuse foundation, that provided facilities where traumatized kids and teenagers could escape to, get trauma therapy and find a way into a better life with college scholarships. And just like always, he was glad when the speech was over.

The mingling wasn’t exactly something he wanted to do, but he’d long accepted it as a part of his life as an artist, and from time to time someone interesting approached him to talk about his art. It wasn’t the worst.

After about an hour into the evening, Allison came up behind Neil, dragging him over to a woman who was interested in the  _ Disillusion _ diptych — one of the works Neil wouldn’t sell. She didn’t seem all too excited about hearing it wasn’t available for purchase, but Neil wouldn’t change his mind. 

It was a core work of his oeuvre, the eponym for the exhibition. Two black canvases.  _ Hope _ — with an ombré white dot in the middle — and  _ Disillusion (The Day You Left) _ — the white dot gone; complete blackness.

As the woman was about to leave, Neil’s eyes locked with a set of hazel ones. It took him a moment to avert them and scan the rest of the appertaining body, but Neil knew it was obsolete. He knew these eyes, had looked into them a million times, had studied every little color deviation in the iris, had woken up to them for years, their brown like honey and whiskey and sometimes, with the right amount of sunlight hitting them, like amber or pure gold. 

_ Andrew _ .

He was standing in front of  _ Boundaries _ . It was one of the installations that were focused on Andrew’s take on life and relationships. Over and over, the projection showed a stream of No’s, only interrupted by a flashing  _ butitsstillayesforme  _ once in every cycle. It was all Neil had felt when Andrew had decided they’d be better off without the other, not even leaving Neil a choice to decide what was best for him himself, so Neil had obeyed, had accepted Andrew’s boundaries.

Neil’s heart fluttered. He felt a strong internal pull, everything in his system screaming at him to move his feet and get to Andrew, just like the sun’s gravity kept the solar system together with a steady pull, but the moment he actually got under way, he bumped into a tall man with green eyes he knew too well.

“Kevin, what the fuck?!” 

Kevin Day had studied with Neil and Andrew, had excelled in art history and journalism likewise, and was one of the most critically acclaimed art bloggers of their time — and the last person Neil wanted to see right now.

“Nice to see you, too, Neil,” Kevin huffed and frowned, clicking his pen. “I wanted to ask for an interview for the blo—”

“Kevin, can you just  _ move _ ?! Andrew’s there.”

Of course, Kevin, in all his inconspicuousness, swung around, asking, “Where?”, and as quick as the moment had come, it was gone again.

Neil ditched Kevin to look for Andrew, but he was nowhere to be found. He even asked Allison, but neither she nor her wife Renee had seen him all night. Had it been a hallucination? Just a mirage elicited by all the traveling and exhausting exhibitions?

When he walked back towards the exhibition room, Neil’s eyes were burning and his mouth dry. His muscles were tense, and he wanted nothing more than to get home to curl up in his bed with Sir and hibernate. 

Kevin wasn’t someone to get rid off quickly, so of course he was still standing by the installation, but Neil had only eyes for the projection screen with its flashing  _ itsstillayesforme _ . 

Maybe, he thought, the next exhibition should focus on truths.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the encouraging comments. Since the story is basically overdue, I have to shorten some things, so if it feels like I'm jumping, well... I do. I set the chapter count to 3, but I'm sure there will be a sequel or an epilogue once I'm done. 
> 
> Oh, and this thing here's unedited so far, so please forgive my mushy German brain. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it anyway.

It had been six weeks since Neil had seen Andrew at his exhibition, and his back felt like he had spent every single one of them in bed. Every time he wanted to get up, the fog in his mind blurred his vision and deprived him of the energy needed to finally sit up. 

He only got out of bed to buy groceries, feed Sir, or for an occasional shower here and there, but all in all, Neil didn’t bother to step a foot out into the way too loud metropolis.

He didn’t know why he felt the way he felt, but he knew, now, that he wasn’t as much over Andrew as he wished he was. He had thought about Andrew a lot all these weeks, had reminisced about their past, their relationship, Andrew’s bad days and the few good ones they had at the end. It had been painful to revisit this part of Neil’s life, but he also knew that he’d always chose Andrew again, because he had given him one of the best times of his life, too. 

Neil had never been interested in people the way others were interested in them. At least not until he had met Andrew in college. 

At first, they had only been roommates and shared some courses, but slowly they had found a routine, had formed an own constellation consisting of spending most of their time in the other’s presence, enjoying take-out in front of the TV to silly movies, smoking cigarettes on the rooftop enveloped by the dark of night and New York City’s million lights that shone like the stars at the ceiling above them. Smoking had blended into kissing, into making out, and it had made Neil realize why everyone he knew was chasing after someone to love, because, wow, loving someone felt great.

But then, something had changed. Neil and Andrew had moved into their own apartment in their last year of college, but Andrew began to be different. They both had dealt with a past full of pain, but even with therapy, Andrew’s demons had been coming back to the surface over and over again. 

Andrew’s space on the couch had started to remain empty, as well as his side of the bed. Sometimes he hadn’t come home a couple of nights in a row, and Neil had felt lost, because he’d wanted to help Andrew, but at the same time, he’d known he needed to respect his boundaries. 

Maybe, he should have done something, should have talked to Andrew’s therapist, but he’d been sure Andrew would open up when the time was right, but that moment never came. 

All Neil remembered was how one day, Andrew had been sitting on the couch when Neil came home from the gym, two bags packed next to him and his key on the table. Whatever had happened next was still hidden in a fog in the back of Neil’s head, only compartments resounding, words like “need you to go on”, “burden”, “better off without me”, “no  _ this _ ” and the bang of the door the moment Andrew had stepped out of the door. He had never come back.

It had been over two years, but the pain at the memory of Andrew walking out that door was still the same.

Based on the motto “My home is my castle”, Neil planned to spend another day in his refuge. That was until the bell on his door rang and Allison waltzed into Neil’s messy apartment, nose wrinkled and a set of shopping bags dangling from her fingers.

“That’s even worse than I thought it was,” Allison mumbled and pushed a stash of clothes off the couch to squeeze herself into the corner.

Neil opened a window to let in some fresh air, before he imitated Allison’s movements to clear the armchair and settled into the cushions, letting his head fall against the backrest. 

“Honey, that’s not how breakups work, you know? You can’t have a breakdown just because you ran into your ex. I bought you something nice and we two will spent a night out. How does that sound?”

Her eyes were brimming with excitement and vitality, whereas Neil was sure he looked like the complete opposite, his cheeks hollow and dark circles around his eyes. Neil had always been lean, but judging by his clothes, he had lost another six to eight pounds. He surely looked like a walking tragedy.

“Ally, I like you, but how that does sound? It sounds like Lucifer has sent you from hell right to my door,” Neil scoffed and curled up in a ball, his head pounding.

“Come on, Neil. I know this will be good for you. We’ll do something nice.”

“No fancy restaurants! No parties! I agree on going for a walk and ordering take-out. Take it or leave it.”

Allison clapped her hands and got up, making her way over to Neil. She ruffled his hair, but stopped in the middle of leaning down to presumably place a kiss to his forehead. “I love you, babe, but you need a shower, so let’s go!”

As always, Allison Reynolds left no room for backtalk.

~~~

The walk hadn’t been bad. At least not until Neil and Allison had come across a billboard flashing Andrew’s book next to yellow letters, advertising an  _ EXCLUSIVE SIGNING SESSION WITH BESTSELLER AUTHOR ANDREW MINYARD _ . Allison had tried to play it down and distract Neil, but it had been too late.

All the way back home, Neil had been asking himself what had happened to Andrew that he’d agreed to do a signing session. Andrew hated gatherings, hated being surrounded by people who didn’t know how to respect his boundaries, and the same Andrew Minyard agreed upon doing signing sessions? It was a conundrum.

Neil didn’t know which movie Allison had put on when they’d come back to the apartment, and now that they were halfway in, it didn’t make sense to try to catch up, so Neil excused himself and walked over to the window and lit a cigarette for comfort. It was the first one he lit since their breakup, the smell too interwoven with Andrew, but right now, it was grounding.

Darkness slowly engulfed the city, bringing out all kinds of lights to illuminate the thousands of apartments and offices, never empty or quiet.

Andrew was somewhere out there, and chances had never been better to finally establish clarity.

Maybe Allison was right. Neil needed to move on. He grabbed Andrew’s book from the shelve and shoved it into his messenger bag before he settled back down onto the couch next to Allison.

“Are you okay, hun?”

Neil contemplated his answer for a moment until his lips turned up into a small smile. “Yes, I think I’ll be fine.”

“For once, I’ll let you get away with your  _ I’m fine _ thing,” Allison said and grinned, nudging Neil’s shoulder.

Tomorrow could come. What was better than to get an author’s signature?

~~~

Neil couldn’t deny that his hands were sweaty and that he’d already changed his shirt two times this morning before he got on his way to the bookstore where Andrew would host his signing session.

Standing in line with dozens of people was awkward, especially when the person signing his book was his ex-partner. Neil hated everything about it. He hated hat Andrew had written that book, that he made Neil stand in line for a signature when they had once shared a bed, a life, an everything that turned into nothing.

Through the shop window, Neil could see Andrew sitting at a desk, signing books and listening to his fans’ excited chatter with his familiar apathetic expression. When they finally stopped blabbering, Andrew nodded once and went on to the next book. 

A big sign by the table pointed out that neither touching nor taking pictures with the author were allowed, but not everybody in the room seemed to have recognized it. A woman who patted Andrew’s arm was quickly led away. No one was probably recognizing it, but Neil could practically feel the tension in Andrew’s body, the discomfort settling behind his indifferent mask. At least this part of Andrew was still the same.

The moment Andrew could see Neil waiting in line, his expression shifted from apathetic to stunned, although to many it must have seemed like nothing had changed at all, but Neil couldn’t be fooled. It were the slightly dilated pupils, rose lips being licked, the pink tips of Andrew’s pale ears that were giving him away.

Neil took a step forward and came to a halt in front of the desk, placing his book on the tabletop, his eyes fixed on Andrew’s that stared right through him.

“For Neil?” Andrew asked after half a minute of silence, opening the book and picking up his sharpie.

“Maybe for the man I should have talked to, but rather wrote a book about,” Neil retaliated, his voice trembling.

“Neil, what are you doing here?” Andrew said, halting his movements. 

“I don’t know, to be honest. I thought I’d come here to clear my mind, to ask you why you were at the exhibition, but left the moment I saw you. Now, I think, coming was the dumbest thing I could have done,” Neil admitted, voice low and revealing his exhaustion.

“Wouldn’t be the first dumb think you do,” Andrew said, his lips forming what could have been a smile, but it was gone before Neil could be sure.

Andrew pushed the book back over the table, and nodded once, but his eyes remained on Neil all the time.

Neil only shook his head before he quickly left the bookstore, the signed book pressed to his chest. He didn’t know if his breathing was laboured because of New York’s heat or because of the pain leaving a sting in his chest, but he knew he needed to get away from that store, that street, maybe even that city.

A few minutes — or was it hours? — later, Neil sat down on a park bench, his face sunburnt and mouth dry. His arms were still clenched around the book. When he opened it, his heart stopped.

_ Our spot, tomorrow, 8pm. It’s still a yes for me, too. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is. I have an epilogue planned but for now it's complete because my life is just messy and I can't promise more at the moment. I hope you still enjoy the story, DeyaAmaya. Sorry for the delay.
> 
> Thanks for your love pals <3

_ Their _ spot meant Brooklyn Bridge Park by Hudson River, so Neil did what him and Andrew had done a million times when they had still been together: packing everything for a picnic.

Neil didn’t know if Andrew even wanted this, but it was something familiar, a memory from a better time, so maybe it would ease the tension — for both of them.

With a patchwork blanket and a basket full of bread, cheese and Andrew’s favorite beer, Neil got on his rented bike and rode through the city. The sun was about to set and some last warming rays were hitting his face as he crossed Brooklyn Bridge and entered the park.

Gold turned into amber in the sunset glow, Andrew’s hair framing his head like an ethereal halo, his straight gaze out onto the water making him seem even more surreal. Neil had expected to see more tension in Andrew’s body, but his slumped shoulders bespoke rather exhaustion than tension.

Neil parked the bike by the rail, and picked up the picnic basket and blanket. Nearing the bench, he rustled the cutlery to let Andrew know he was there without making him startle. Old habits die hard.

When Andrew didn’t say anything, Neil said, “Hey”, and stretched the blanket out on the grass, arranging food and beverages. Only when he was done, Andrew turned around and walked over, scanning the scenery in front of him. He looked at Neil for what felt like an infinite moment before he lowered himself onto the blanket and popped a grape into his mouth.

“Hey,” Andrew eventually replied, staring up at Neil who was still towering above him. “Did you grow roots there?”

Neil’s cheeks turned pink at the remark, his heart skipping a beat at the familiar ribbing. He quickly sat down and picked up a soda, his stomach already tight. 

As if on cue, they both let their eyes wander over to the blood red river, watching the sun vanish at the horizon like they had done it a million times before. Although the days were hot, the evenings still carried some cool breezes, now flitting over Neil’s skin and leaving goosebumps along their paths. Andrew pulled out a second blanket from the basket and pushed it into Neil’s arms without granting him a glimpse, and yet Neil knew what Andrew was thinking.  _ Idiot. Still can’t take care of yourself _ .

“So,  _ Disillusion _ ,” Andrew suddenly began, averting his gaze to focus on Neil’s face. “Is that what I left for you?” He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit two, holding one out to Neil who took one drag and then let it sit between his fingers.

> **disillusion  
> ** _ noun _ UK /ˌdɪs.ɪˈluː.ʒən / US /ˌdɪs.ɪˈluː.ʒən/  
>  a feeling of being disappointed and unhappy because of discovering the truth about something or someone that you liked or respected

Neil had sat at Matt’s and Dan’s shortly after Andrew had left him, his chest hollow and mind numb, and then Matt had turned on the radio and Abba had come on with that song that expressed Neil’s emotions better than his own words could ever have. When he’d planned the exhibition, this word was always coming back to him. 

But was it the truth? Had Andrew disillusioned Neil? Before Andrew, Neil hadn’t had any opinion of love or relationships, so could Andrew have disappointed him by showing him that loving someone was just another way of getting hurt, of feeling a different, even more painful, kind of torment? 

Neil had already known that love came with pain — his mother’s way of loving him had left a trail of scars to serve as a constant reminder — but his relationship with Andrew had altered his notion, his opinion of love. Slowly, he had learned that hands could be gentle, that lips could be breathtaking, that letting someone in could also mean lessening a burden by sharing it.

So if Neil had to judge now if Andrew had disillusioned him by leaving, then he could say it was the truth, and Neil had never lied to Andrew, so what was the sense of starting now?

“Yes,” Neil answered, fingers fiddling with a loose thread on his jorts. 

Andrew nodded and took another drag from his cigarette, silence wafting through the space between them. 

“Why  _ Pipe Dream _ ?” Neil asked after what felt like hours, not being able to stand the tension anymore. He wanted clearance. He wanted to know if there had ever been a  _ this _ , if they had ever been  _ something _ (if they could ever be  _ something  _ again), because Neil  _ meant _ it. It was still a yes for him, if Andrew would only let him in for once, in for real, not just letting him leave a scratch on the surface, but letting him dig a hole until he reached his core. “I wasn’t a pipe dream, Andrew. I was all but that.”

At first, Andrew remained silent, gaze drifting away, but then he said, “You were an illusion, a treacherous one at that.” Andrew turned his head, meeting Neil’s eyes head-on, now. There was more emotion on his face than Neil had ever seen so openly before. “You with your yeses, and patience, and respect for boundaries. With a past so dark and people in it with hands so violent opening up to mine that haven’t ever done any good but doing harm. You should have walked away on day one, but all you did was to stay.”

Neil frowned, biting his lower lip. “So, my fault was to see the person behind the curtain? The Andrew no one was willing to see although he was right in front of them? The one who rather suffered through painful nights with greedy hands trying to rob him of the last inch of dignity he had left as a foster kid so a mother wouldn’t lose her monster of a son?” 

Neil’s breathing was labored and his eyes were burning at Andrew’s blindness, at his negation of his real self. Neil had seen many bad people in his life, had suffered at the hands of a dozen, but Andrew certainly wasn’t one of them. 

“Andrew. It was always yes with you because you were anything but like these people.”

Time dragged on as neither one spoke again. Neil knew that Andrew needed time to process, to ponder how much he could allow to be seen and what had to be kept in secrecy. There would only be a chance for them if Andrew could overcome his fear of being seen. Neil had never set conditions in their relationship, had never seen himself in a position to ask more from Andrew than he was willing to give, and he neither wouldn’t do it now. Andrew needed to take that leap by choice.

“If I hadn’t left, I would have pulled you down with me,” Andrew whispered into the twilight, lighting another cigarette. 

“If you hadn’t left, you probably wouldn’t have fallen,” Neil replied, holding his hand out for Andrew’s cigarette to take a deep drag, the acrid smoke burning in his lungs. “I would have caught you, you know? I was there. The night in college when you asked me if it’s a yes or no, I said yes to all of it, to all of you. To your lips meeting mine, to the nightmares, to the days you couldn’t get out of bed, to all the trauma eating you alive from deep inside. It was all or nothing, and I chose all, because there had never been a single person who saw through me the way you do without flinching away.”

A weight lifted off of Neil’s chest, all the things he’d kept inside for so long finally being out in the open.  _ Clearance _ .

“Do?” Andrew asked when his cigarette had burned down, his arms wrapped around his knees.

“What?” 

“You said there had never been a single person who saw through you the way I  _ do _ .”

Neil reflected for a moment before he answered, “Yes. I think you still know me like no other ever will.” 

“You still say stupid things,” Andrew said, but Neil recognized the small twitch of Andrew’s lips. And then, something unexpected happened. The twitch transformed into a smile. A real one. An open one. A smile Andrew used to hold back most of the time, but here he was, willing to offer some vulnerability. Neil couldn’t look away. “And you’re still staring,” Andrew added, pushing a finger into Neil’s cheek. 

“Why?” Neil asked once his stupor was lifted, a mix of sadness and pride flushing his system.

“Why what, Neil?”

“Why not earlier?”

“Is it too late?” Andrew asked, studying Neil’s eyes with a crease between his brows. Another door being left open. A small step forward. A yes after so many noes.

“No,” Neil eventually said, a small smile coming to life on his lips. Ironic how sometimes a no could be a yes, too. “As long as you don’t shut me out again, Andrew. I can’t lose you again.”

“Junkie,” Andrew huffed, but Neil knew that it was Andrew’s way of reassurance. It was more than a yes. It was Andrew’s always.

Neil realized only now that the sun was completely gone. They both got up and packed the basket, and ambulated towards the bridge. Neil was wheeling his bike, and Andrew carried the blanket. After all the time apart, everything about being with Andrew was still so easy. They weren't okay, not yet, but maybe they could get there again. 

It didn't sound illusional at all.  



End file.
